


Sweet Honey; Dangerous Ferocity

by catchthatpigeon



Series: Love in Parts and in Whole [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Omega Verse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchthatpigeon/pseuds/catchthatpigeon
Summary: “If someone is cruel to you because of your soft disposition and generosity, respond to their poison with equal parts sweet honey, equal parts dangerous ferocity.”— Nikita Gill





	1. Cover

[](https://www.flickr.com/gp/158434482@N02/3mhto8)

_Cover made by catchthatpigeon. I do not own any of the images used._


	2. Make Way for the King

“My strength and weakness are twins in the same womb.”

  
— _Marge Piercy_

* * *

 

_As hard as your mother had tried to hide the fact, you had always known that she had been disappointed in you. As an elite alpha, she had hoped that you would have turned out like her — alas, after a passionate tryst with an alpha male of equal standing, she’d been left saddled with you: an omega — yet another submissive and soft creature to be cowed about by society._

_You had cried when you had been born into the world; small and vulnerable. Your mother’s expression of pure, unaltered joy has morphed to one of disappointment; and as her warm scent had soured upon realizing your status, you’d cried even harder. Why was she upset?  
_

_Was something wrong?_

_The question plagued you for years, but you were a clever child, far ahead of your peers._

_When you were five, it had dawned to you. Yes, something was wrong and that you were the source of your mother’s soured scent and expression of disappointment._

_Despite your strained relationship, your mother still cared for you, and not a day went by that you were hungry or cold; a touch deprived of physical contact, but you made by. When you’d revealed your aptitude for learning, did your mother take a sudden interest in you. Perhaps there was some use for you, she had mused one day as she had observed you thumb through old tomes after old tomes written by the great masters of an age gone by._

_Perhaps you wouldn’t become some docile trophy wife for some gilded aristocrat to breed and keep at home after all._

_You had taken to technology and books like a shark to water, and you had soaked up whatever your mother had provided you with; tearing through pages and lessons until the late hours. Whatever trinkets you had been gifted; small robots and gadgets had been nimbly taken apart and out back together. Bit by bit, were you introduced to topics of politics, business and economics; and while you were less than thrilled by the topics, for a sheer moment of your mother’s attention and for a meager nugget of recognition and praise, you learned about those too._

_Your mother had been reluctant to bring you along to the social gatherings, but after some thought, you were brought along. Dressed in your finest, you kept to yourself and shadowed your mother as she bustled about, socializing and gossiping among the alphas while paying little heed to the omegas in the room._

_On several occasion, you’d become the center of conversation, and while your mother was reluctant to discuss you, she threw enough to the wolves to keep them interested and salivating. Every now and again you’d even catch the word “marriage” thrown about when no one thought you’d be within earshot. While the prospect of being married off to a wealthy alpha terrified you, you found comfort in the way your mother would scoff and scrunch her nose at the word upon returning to your home._

_“I refuse to pawn you off like some cheap trinket,” she’d said to you after one particularly extravagant party, her nose turned up. “While you’re not what I hoped you’d be... You still have potential, pet, and I have got other plans for you that marriage.” Your elegant and strong mother seemed to almost bristle at the word._  
  
Marriage.

* * *

 

“Then it is true then?” you asked, breaking the silence in your unnecessarily expensive flat. With a cup of something warm cradled in your hands, you turned to face your empty and mostly dark apartment. “Doomfist is returning to Talon?”

You cut across your sparsely decorated kitchen; through the massive archway and into the living room where the wraith materialized.

“Yes,” came the ghastly hiss of a confirmation as Reaper watched you approach. You wore little, but then again you’d always worn little when in the privacy of your own home. “I’ve arranged for an aircraft carrier to bypass Helix security. I’ll be assisting his escape myself.”

You’d smelled the wraith before you’d seen him, and while your acquaintance with Reaper had allowed your hearing to acclimate to his wisp like movements and the soft flutter of his coat, it was his scent that often keyed you in to his arrival. The heady scent of unapologetic _alpha_ seeped throughout your living quarters and clung viciously to the air, the fabrics in your home — your skin, even.

With a soft hum, you sipped your beverage before setting it down on the low glass table in your living room. For a moment your thoughts felt... muddled by the spicy scent that you kept breathing in, but managed to shake it off in seconds. Reaper had never expressed the carnal kind of interest in you, much to your relief and appreciation. In fact, any kind of interest from the man in question was always deeply rooted in the value of your skills and how they benefitted him and his goals.

Certainly it hurt your natural instincts that the alpha didn’t find you desirable in the way that something deep down within you wished that he did, but this... mutual work relationship that you had built with Reaper did wonders to your status as a Talon operative.

Alas, biology was still biology, and you allowed yourself to breathe in and bask in the alpha’s presence.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” the mercenary continued, tone clipper and exceptionally clear despite the stylized mask.

“I still appreciate the honesty,” you replied with a one-shoulder-shrug before dropping down on one of the couches in your sunken living room. As you crossed your legs, you gestured at him to seat himself on the couch across from you. “But that’s not why you’re really here, is it, Reaper?”

Reaper did not sit.

“I need you to make the necessary preparations for his return. Can you do that for me, _omega_?”

You shuddered at his tone, and despite the mask, you could feel his heavy gaze. Despite the question, you knew it was no question. For a moment you sat there, dazed, before the corners of your lips curled up into a coy smile.

“That was a mean thing you did there, _alpha_. But if it’ll please you, I’ll see what I can do.”

To propose a question in that manner with your status tacked to the end like you were his to command and croon at... Alas, with how unique your relationship was with the wraith, you supposed it was to be expected. You didn’t really work with anyone in particular, and when you did, it was often enough with Reaper. He didn’t hover over you, and while he didn’t see you as his equal, he didn’t treat you like you were something to be objectified or claimed. So, you were content to play along with his games, and if you basked in his presence and scented the air more than usual when he was present, well... more power to you.

“Are you staying for dinner, alpha?” You inquired while reaching for your mug. You glanced at him from under your long lashes, putting some of your omega charms to good use. You knew of the effects you had on alphas, though there were the select few with god-like self-control; Reaper being one of them. “I’m having beef braised in Cabernet Franc with roast vegetables.”

“Pass. Breakout’s happening tomorrow at 1900.”

Your coy smile fell to a frown as the man dematerialized and the literal dark cloud disappeared out the small crack in your balcony doors. _Was he serious?_ Your gaze shifted to the large, modern clock on your wall before flying off your couch.

“Garoux,” You crooned to your empty apartment, tone wavering. “Please have my usual delivered to the apartment. I don’t think I’ll have the time to cook tonight.” Your usual being your preferred take out from down the street.

“Yes, ma’am. Will that be all?” the A.I. intoned.

“No, dear, thank you,” you replied, already pulling out your data pad from where it sat on a nearby desk. “Though I’d appreciate some music and the lights turned up to 40%.”

The moment the words had left your mouth, the room brightened and your favorite playlist started playing softly in the background. You pulled up your contacts list and a minute later you were sending out a mass e-mail to the Talon operatives that both mattered and had yet to be made privy to the information Reaper had just confirmed. You pinched your fingers together on the smooth surface of your tablet before flicked them out in front of you. Three blue transparent windows popped out in front of you as you plopped back down on the plush couch. You idly swiped left, and even more windows appeared. Each window blurred until you found the one you’d been looking for.

Leaning back into the cushions, you glossed over the old articles written about Doomfist, his family, achievements, and his defeat before moving on to the newer ones featuring his gauntlet, which was being paraded about and placed on display like some trophy.

“He’s probably going to want that back,” You mused. “Garoux, be a dear and keep tabs on all articles and news clips featuring Doomfist’s gauntlet for me? In addition, I want names of all personnel and players involved in the housing and transportation of said gauntlet. The moment there’s even talks about the gauntlet being moved, I want to know.”

“Yes, ma’am. Your order has also been placed and paid for, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Garoux.”

You didn’t sleep that night. In fact, you’d been on the phone for the first half of the night; then extorted and exploited you way through what might as well have been a mountain of digital paperwork; and then ended up back on the phone. The alpha on the other end wasn’t happy with the news of Doomfist’s impending return, in fact, not many alpha hotshots were. Some had steered Talon on a path that was more financially driven, and Akande Ogundimu’s presence could potentially derail that.

_But why were they taking it out on you?_ You thought as you shrunk into your couch even more as the man howled and raved on the other end. The omega in you cowered at his tone, but the Talon operative in your simply wishes to roll your eyes and hang up had you been able to override your primary instincts.

“Sir - sir, I unfortunately cannot do anything to prevent this,” you managed after several attempts to both get a word in and to sound relatively confident. It did little to placate the alpha on the other end, and you bit back your whine of distress until it choked you.

“Yes sir, I will pass the message on.” No. No, you wouldn’t. You hung up and removed the ear piece just as the music resumed. With a sigh, you leaned your head back to rest against the back of the couch. You vaguely heard Garoux speak, and hummed noncommittally.

“Mute, block — I don’t care what you do Garoux, I’m not taking anymore calls unless it’s from beta or another omega.” Highly unlikely from the latter — most omegas did not fare well in Talon without the protection of an alpha or a group of betas. As for the former: it was rare for a beta to achieve a high rank due to the lack of aggression (when compared to an alpha) but it was still possible. Amélie Lacroix was a prime example of a high ranked and respected beta, though then again there was some genetic modification and neural reconditioning in play when it came to her — she’d been born an omega.

“Of course, ma’am. Now silencing all calls from all known alphas. Will this include your mother as well, ma’am?”  
  
“No, and please scratch Reaper off the list, too.”

“All calls and messages from Reaper have been unmuted, ma’am. Is there anything else I may help you with, ma’am?”

“Yes, please pull up my regular furniture catalogues as well as those with fast delivery to...” you paused to look at your extensive list of things to do. “Oyo, Nigeria. I want the deliveries expedited, and I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen, but make it happen.” Oh, _heavens_ , how were you going to pull this off?

“While you’re at it, Garoux, please call the current head of the Nigerian branch.”

“Ma’am, you are aware that the head of the —“

“Yes, I’m aware. Just patch me through.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

* * *

 

_You were still unsure of your mother’s plans for you, but whatever they were had landed you within the most feared and clandestine terrorist group the world had seen so far. You had made your way into the graces of most, if not all, of the Talon chairmen, and built yourself a bit of a reputation along the way. While you weren’t at the skill level of the likes of Sombra, you were still a reliable and effective informant, and should someone need a miracle, you were the one people turned to._

_Reaper’s continuous need of your services proved as much._

_From the moment you had been born, the world had worked against you: as an omega and as a woman. But you had learned how to work with the cards you had been dealt. You had turned your weaknesses into some of your strongest assets, and had you failed to do so, your mother had made sure you did._

_You just hoped your skills were enough to handle someone like Akande Ogundimu._


	3. The King Has Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This man was a true apex predator; a king among beasts.

“Do not wait for a coronation; the greatest emperors crown themselves.”

  
— _Robert Greene_

* * *

 

Needless to say, you had pulled a miracle with your last assignment from Reaper. With a yawn, you rose from your seat — having flicked the holographic screens close save for one — and meandered over to your bedroom. Preparing for bed, you idly flicked through Sombra’s recent activities. You had been working closely with Reaper to monitor her “extracurricular activities” and as of late, her involvement with Katya Volskaya. What the young hacker was up to was beyond you, but you had your guesses. Either she had grander ambitions or she was simply and opportunist.

Flicking on the lights to the private bathroom connected to your bedroom, you wandered over to the sink. Your fingers grazed over the cool marble counters before waving your hand under the faucet to activate the flow. Staring into to the vast mirror, your exhausted reflection stared back. With a soft grunt, you cupped your hands under the water flow before lightly splashing it to your face.

As you wandered about your bathroom, performing your usual skincare routines, brushed your teeth, and changed for bed, you took the time reflect on your relationship with Reaper.

You had been introduced to one another at your mother’s Talon involved social gatherings. While your mother had gone above and beyond to steel you for the onslaught of strong alpha personalities that made up the majority of the Talon Inner Council, nothing could have prepared you for your first meeting with Gabriel Reyes. In fact, you remembered the day like it was yesterday...

His scent, while undeniably alpha, smelt of death and decay, of ozone and beneath it all, something deliciously spicy. You had staggered, but your mother’s strong and comforting presence by your side allowed you to recover quickly as you two were introduced.

You thought nothing of the encounter, but several months later he had approached you with a job. Despite the job resulting in a failure, you had performed your part flawlessly. You had gotten Reaper in to the Watchpoint in Gibraltar, and you had provided him with the means of infiltrating the system. The goal had been to retrieve a list of all Overwatch operatives, but the Talon agents were unable to subdue Overwatch operative Winston long enough for Reaper to extract the information.

Despite this, your part in the plan had proven to be the start of your relationship with Reaper. Granted he didn’t bring you out into the field as much, but he seemed to rely on your information gathering skills and extensive list of connections. You spent many nights speaking into Reaper’s ear and tracking his movements, guiding and assisting him from behind a screen. Perhaps it was the omega in you, or how he deviated from the norm for most male alphas — not that he didn’t display alpha male traits — but you found yourself at ease around him.

He had never cowed you around verbally or physically, but rather allowed his authoritative aura to guide and subtly compel you to please him. He was confident in his abilities as a mercenary and he did not disappoint in the field. The few times that he did bring you out in the field with him, he had made sure to put himself between you and immediate danger; but by no means was his presence smothering or hindering like most alphas in your social circles tended to be. At some point you had begun seeing him as a potential mate; the kind that wouldn’t keep you at home and show you off at tea parties. The omega in you had certainly been thrilled by the idea. Alas, Reaper expressed little interest in your advances, and was quick to stamp down on your hopes.

Thus resumed your professional relationship, though you still tended to fuss and worry after the alpha, and preen whenever he praised you. As business like as your relationship was; there was a certain element that made it very symbiotic. Wholesome and satisfying, even.

At times, as rare as they were, things even felt domestic between the two of you.

With Reaper’s scent still lingering in your thoughts, so unique and domineering as his presence and stature, you climbed into your all too big bed and drifted off...

* * *

 

You woke up late the next morning, not because you had realized that you had woken late, but because you heard shuffling about your spacious and empty penthouse. The moment your eyes snapped open, pupils wide with alarm. Your body tensed, then twisted and coiled so that you were on your hands and knees with your back arched down; a stark difference from your vulnerable position mere moments ago.

Parting your lips, you drew in the stale and new scents in your apartment. The floorboards creaked, and you could vaguely pick out two sets of footsteps. As the scents registered, a cold dread filled you. Two alphas; that much was so undeniably obvious. With your heart in your throat, you climbed down from your bed as you reached over for the gun you kept in your nightstand drawer.

“Easy _cariña_ , I can hear your heart from here.”

Reaper’s voice had been like a beacon in the dark, and you dropped your shoulders the moment his scent and voice reached you. With a soft whine, you straightened yourself and withdrew your hand away from the drawer handle. You reached for your silk robe and pulled it on. Padding out the living room where you knew him to be, you came to a halt as you took in the sight of the man behind him.

Akande Ogundimu’s presence was physically jarring and robbed you of your breath. The man was massive, and his presence even bigger. It engulfed the room and drew in — _no_ , **demanded** the attention of everyone present.

It was clear to both men as well as yourself that you were staring, but you figured you had the right to. You had never met Doomfist: The Successor in person and nothing your mother had taught you nor any of your previous experiences with alphas could prepare you for him.

This man was a true apex predator; _a king among beasts_.

Just as you were scenting and observing him, he was no doubt doing the same. He was subtle in the way he drew in your scent and eyed your figure, as if trying to be be polite about it.

“Is she yours?” he inquired after a while, his voice rich and accented. You blinked owlishly before realizing that the question had not been directed to you, but rather at the wraith mercenary.

“No,” came Reaper’s response as he took three steps towards you. “She’s the Talon informant I informed you about — Victoria’s pup.” Your haze shifted from Akande to Reaper.

“Why is he here, Gabe?” you inquired after a beat, your fingers loosely curling around his sleeve. Uncertainly gripped you and you pulled the man closer. While you respected Akande as a valuable member of Talon as well as a chairman, he was still a foreign alpha in _your home._ Something that very few had a right to.

“I’ve sent you the reports — everything is ready for him at the Nigerian base.”

“And I’ve received them but I need you to do something else for me.” Your brows furrowed. Had you not done enough? But, you were already cocking your head to the side in the way that Reaper knew that you were listening. However, rather than giving you your next assignment, Reaper turned his gaze to Akande. You uncurled your fingers from the man’s sleeve and stepped out from behind Reaper.

“I need an audience with Maximilien,” Akande begun, his voice sending shivers down your bones. “I understand correctly, you two are exceptionally familiar with one another. Alas, I am ill-prepared.” He held his arms out to the side, drawing attention to his prison issued clothes. _Ah_.

“We occasionally accompany one another to horse races,” you explained, keeping your tone soft and polite. “Shall I have the tailor brought immediately?”

“Please,” came the response. _My, what manners._

“You heard the sir’s request, Garoux. Please phone Thompson & Brothers on the private line,” you instructed as you picked up your earpiece just as Garoux replied with his usual “yes, ma’am.” With one last glance to Reaper and Akande, you nodded your head.

“Please make yourself at home, sirs.”

With that, you retreated back into your bedroom to speak with the tailor.

When you returned (dressed in something more respectable), Reaper had excused himself with a “you’re in good hands.” You weren’t quite sure as to whom he had been speaking to, but judging by the fact that he had failed to address either one of you specifically nor had he even attempted to make eye contact, you gendered that he had been speaking to the both of you.

“Would you care for anything Mr. Ogundimu? Tea? Coffee?” you asked after a moment of silence. The said alpha, whom had taken a seat at your couch, turned his piercing gaze to you. “Coffee, please. Milk, no sugar.”

With a polite nod, you went to brew a pot for the both of you.

“So you are Victoria’s offspring?” his smooth and sure voice carried to your ears a moment later.

“Yes, I am,” you replied while pouring the coffee beans into the grinder.

“Your dam is one woman who is in such massive control,” Akande chuckled. “It’s impressive. Talon is fortunate to have a chairman like her.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. It had been your mother that had brought you into Talon. You had first started out working exclusively under and for her. Not that you minded. Your mother ran a tight ship, and she knew what she wanted from you — from all that worked under her. In addition, being her child had forced you to grow accustomed to her incredibly high and specific expectations, you were more than used to her standards by the time you had begun working for her. Perhaps that was why your work from thereon-out had been nothing but pristine. You met your quotas and you did your tasks accordingly and then some.

With the coffee finally brewing, you bustled about your minimalist and sleek kitchen, filling a lovely, white wooden tray with a pitcher of milk, a small jar of honey with a lovely handcrafted wand. You pulled out your best Arabia coffee set. You had flown to Finland and hand selected and paid for your kitchenwares in person rather than asked Garoux to fill in an order for you.

Perhaps it was the omega in you, but when it came to your own home you pulled out all the stops and took pride in it.

“She can be difficult to work for with laughable short-term rewards,” you continued, “but the long-term rewards are worth it in the end.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, you tend to build a reputation should you prove to be successful under her.”

“Yours certainly precedes you, Miss (Last Name). I’ve heard a thing or two of you and I must admit I’m look forward to working with you.”

You stilled and turned to face the alpha, only to find his eyes already on you. They shifted to your face. His gaze sent chills down your spine — yet it was a different kind of chill; nothing akin to the chills most alphas gave you when they stared and appraised you like some prized horse, or worse... something to be owned.

Turning around fully, you leaned against kitchen counter before inclining your head in his direction.

In his absence, Talon had been derailed from its original purpose, a waste of precious resources in your mother’s opinion. But with Doomfist’s return, you had a feeling that things would change very shortly. Your mother had been pleased to discover that Akande was returning to the organization. He had been an equal in her eyes and she thought him a competent leader; someone who was worth following. A luxury she had not afforded “that scum” Vialli.

Tilting your head to the side, hair falling to one side, you smiled.

“Likewise, Mr. Ogundimu.”


	4. She Roars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To evolution."

“She is both, hellfire and holy water. And the flavor you taste depends on how you treat her.”

_— Sneha Pal_

* * *

 

“I must admit, I was surprised when I received your message.”

Despite the slight tension between your shoulders, you didn’t turn your head around to face the smartly dressed omnic.

“While it is a joy to attend these outings with you, dear, I don’t believe this meeting is purely for pleasure, now is it?” the voice continued, smooth like velvet.

You finally turned your head to look up at Maximilien. Familiar red eyes and the scent of something metallic beneath a layer of grade-A polish greeted your nose. You lowered your antique opera glasses until it was laid neatly across your lap. You flashed him a smile and offered your hand as he reached out to grasp it in his own. Despite the lack of a proper mouth, Maximilien place a brief kiss to the back of your hand before taking a seat across from you.

“I don’t see why it can’t be both,” you replied coyly before reaching for your glass of sparkling water. Above you, the announcer announced the race. Beneath you, people milled about the stands, trying to get to their seats or buy last minute confections and beverages. There were men in smartly dressed suits and ladies in colorful dresses; wide brimmed hats decorated with lace and flowers and the occasional parasol to shield someone’s delicate skin from the sun.

“I take it you’re betting on Million Dollar as well?” Maximilien inquired after a comfortable silence as he turned his gaze from the track to you. You watched as he tucked his ticket into his jacket.

“No, he’s got weak pasterns,” you said airily, bringing your glasses back to your eyes. “He’s got good bloodlines and a stellar track record but one day those legs of his are going to get him into trouble. I’ve got my money on French Champagne.”

“The mare? She’s got good conformation but she’s hardly impressive.”

“But her bloodlines are pristine. She was sired by Rolling Thunder and therefore a descendant of VS Hell Bitch. She’ll place.”

“Well, you certainly know your equines, Miss (Name).”

“My mother is, ah, a bit of an equestrian.”

“I’d say,” Maximilien snorted as he leaned back into his chair, appearing much more relaxed. As he raised his glass, and you mirrored his actions. Just as the gun fired and the horses with their jockeys were released, the two of you clinked your glasses together. A toast of good will; a ‘may-the-best-woman-or-omnic-win.’ While you two always ended up wagering money against one another, it was always in good sport. And while you preferred to not lose any money at all, you’d rather lose it knowing that it went into Maximilien’s pocket.

As the race came to an end and the winner was announced and crowned, you turned to Maximilien, having finished your lunch.

“The reason why I asked you to attend this race with me is regarding Akande,” you begun as you fished your clutch from the chair next to you.

“Akande? Yes, I did receive your message regarding his return. How is he?”

You laughed, a bell like sound as you shook your head. “He looked... well, I supposed, given the circumstances.” You pulled out your compact powder and a tube of lipstick.

“You have met him then?”

“Indeed. Gabe brought him to my place, which brings us here. He wishes to meet with you, Maximilien.”

“Is that so? Why not reach out to me himself?”

“He’s simply being polite,” you said with a soft chuff as you reapplied your rouge. You dragged the soft and creamy stick across your lips several times before tipping your head back to appraise your work through the mirror. Deeming your touch up to be satisfactory, you recapped the lipstick. With a sharp ‘click’ you snapped the compact shut before locking eyes with the omnic’s. “He’s not happy with Vialli.”

“Few of us are,” came the response — a bitter laugh. ”Vialli is a fool. I will gladly meet with Akande, then.”

Turning to face the server waiting on your table, you asked for the check. Only Maximilien insisted that he pay for your lunch. So, you allowed him.

Afterwards, he invited you back to his suite for some wine, an offer you graciously accepted. Were he an alpha, your mother would have been delighted that you spent so much time in his company. He was nothing short in his manners and composure, and spoke politely and knew how to address a lady. When in your company, he knew to kept the conversation proper and not once did you an offense. As one of Talon’s chairmen, Maximilien was cool and level-headed; responsible. Truly, a resourceful and valuable member of Talon.

Alas, he was not an alpha. Though you knew from the way your mother spoke to him and the occasional glint in her eyes that she did respect him. After all, Maximilien was an invaluable ally of hers, and by extent, yours too.

However, you liked to be a little more naive, and thought of him as a friend of sorts.

Several days later you kissed him on the cheek goodbye and flew back to your own humble abode where, unsurprisingly yet surprisingly, Akande still awaited for his custom suits as well as for your return. Though what had been even more surprising had been the sight of him waiting in the lobby of your building, dressed in something other than prison clothes. You stilled for a moment as he approached you, shoulders more or less relaxed and hands tucked into the pockets on his trousers. He reached out to take your bag, and your shock hazed mind allowed him.

Next, the alpha had offered you his arm, which you mutely looped your arm through. Your dainty hand settled at the soft skin at the crook of his elbow.

“I hear French Champagne won the race,” he said the moment the elevator door slid shut. Your head swam as his scent filled the metal box, over powering all the stale scents that lingered within. Was getting in an elevator with an alpha very much in his prime such a good idea? Probably not, but here you were.

“That she did,” you replied, having drawn in a shaky breath moments prior. The intent had been to clear your mind, but you’d only managed to draw in more of his warm and musky scent. “I-I’m rather pleased with the results. I had some money riding on her.” You were also pleased with his scent.

The elevator dinged softly as it arrived at your floor and the two of you stepped out on to the carpeted floor as the door slid open.

Once within your pent house, Akande retreated into your living room whilst you entered your bedroom with every intention of showering and changing into something much more relaxed. Traveling was nice, but aeroplanes tended to leave you feeling uncomfortable and your hair limp and dull. Your impromptu house quest was patient, a feat that you had been — once again — pleasantly surprised by. So, you went out of your way to prepare lunch for the both of you without any prompting before discussing the fruits of your labor.

You informed Akande that Maximilien had agreed to a meeting with him, and that should he wish, you would gladly arrange for both transportation and accommodations on his behalf. You watched him carefully, reading the small shifts in his posture and on his face, never quite meeting his gaze while you did.

He appeared... pleased. While the Talon chairman dropped his shoulders, it was not the way his posture had relaxed that gave away the fact that he had been pleased. Instead, it was the small rumble that reverberated in his chest and the way his scent had sweetened, almost. In response, something warm bloomed in your chest and the urge to preen was strong. In the end, you brushed it off as a natural response to his current state of mind and the endorphins that surely floated about in your system.

“That would be appreciated,” he responded. With a nod, you had Garoux add the tasks to your itiniery with a priority note.

Lunch had been good, especially once your body adjusted and settled to Akande’s scent and presence. He idly asked more questions about the race before shifting the conversation more towards Talon and your involvement with the organization. Knowing exactly what he wanted to know from you, Akande led the conversation and you were content to follow. You had no secrets — not the kind that would land you in trouble within Talon, and we’re proud of your accomplishments. Why shouldn’t you be allowed to brag, even just a little bit?

“From what I understand, you work closely with Reaper.”

Under any other circumstances you would have brushed the statement off as something simple, but you stilled; the coffee cup raised half way to your lips. Your gaze flickered to Akande’s hulking figure. Slowly you set the cup back on to the saucer before folding your hands neatly over your lap. You took a precious moment to collect your thoughts — breaking his statement apart, only to rebuild it with a million and one possible meanings and implications.

“My statement is merely an observation, Miss (Last Name). I meant nothing by it. However, to keep up with the likes of Reaper... that is a formidable feat.”

For a moment you bristled, but schooled your expression into something more neutral. Surely he could tell that you had been offended?

“It is true that us omega are biologically, psychologically, and emotionally different from our alpha counterpart, but I do not believe it to be too hard to comprehend that someone like me can keep up with someone like Reaper,” you stated, choosing your words carefully as you reached for your coffee.

“Different does not always equate to weaker or inferior. We simply have to think differently — to adapt to our differences; _to evolve._ ”

You peered over the rim of your cup, finally daring to look the alpha in the eyes. The air felt thick with something, and had the topic of conversation been anything else, you would’ve averted your eyes in response to the intensity behind Doomfist’s eyes.

Alas, throughout the years you had learned that your biology did not have to be your enemy. The road to self-love had been a rocky one, but in the end overcoming one large hurdle had paved your road to success. To _triumph._ You learned that you could fight just as fiercely as any alpha could, and you took _pride_ in your greatest development, in your achievements, and your biology.

There was a slight shift forward in your guest’s shoulders, and your gut reaction was to prepare to flinch out of the way of an attack. You had learned a long time ago that many alphas did not appreciate your views and opinions. Despite the worldwide advancements in science and robotics, it seemed that the notion of alphas and omegas being on an equal platform was still unheard of — heresy, even.

But rather than striking you, Akande only reached for his own cup of coffee. He raised it — a toast, before declaring:

“To evolution.”

Had he realized the tension come and go from your shoulders, he did not comment on it.

“To evolution,” you replied a moment later, mirroring his actions. The hormones within you _roiled_ in response to this situation; your heart hammered as your brain raced to wrap itself around the enigma sitting across from you.

Who is Akande Ogundimu and what exactly is his game?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, I was so close to 2,000 words with this one but honestly this chapter has been a tough one to write. Fun fact, VS Hell Bitch is an ode to one of my sister's horses; and actually features in another fanfiction of mine under the moniker: Angband Hag. Anyways, thank you for waiting so patiently while I've been hammering away at this chapter!


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